Between Two Points
by s . p . m u s e . p a t r o l
Summary: That innocent, kind-hearted boy she'd once met is long gone. So why does the longing still remain? Gale/Madge; AU. One-shot for now.


_**A/N: **__So this idea's been swimming around in my mind for a while and I had a sudden flash of inspiration today and decided to finish it._

_The first two chapters are prologues of sorts, looking into their relationship before THG's from Gale and Madge's POV's._

_First up: Madge!_

_Thanks for reading! :D_

. . .

Between Two Points

Gale/Madge : The Hunger Games

. . .

"Madge turns away from him, because he is looking at her still – looking at her with that mix of disgust and an echo of hatred – and that look cuts far deeper than any words he could ever say." Gale/Madge; AU.

Madge

The first time Madge met Gale Hawthorne is a day she will never forget.

It was a summer's day in District 12. Madge's mother was in bed (headaches again) and so, her father had asked her to travel to the Hob, to Greasy Sae's, to pick up the bird for that nights roast.

He would have done it himself, he assured her, but he was just _so busy_. Even then, at 9 years old, Madge could tell, from the dark circles under his eyes and the lines on his ageing face, that he was speaking the truth.

"But you are so young," he had protested, rethinking the idea, worrying for her safety as any parent would.

"I'll be fine, daddy," she'd assured, always eager to please, "Back before you know it."

And though Madge was sure that, if he weren't so stressed, he would have protested some more he simply gave her a kiss on the cheek and sent her on her way.

Fifteen minutes later, she had begun her travels back home, a triumphant grin on her face.

Madge remembers the feeling well. That strange mix of excitement, anxiety and disgust; excitement at the thought of being given more responsibility than she'd ever had before; anxiety at the prospect that she might not be able to live up to it; disgust at the fact that she was carrying a dead bird in her arms.

But all of those feelings were overrode when she noticed the stares, the whispers, the eyes flickering away from her face when she caught them looking.

There would be gossip throughout that day.

"Poor girl. 9 years old. What was her father thinking, sending her out on her own?"

And yet – though she didn't know why then, her mind too young and too innocent to understand their prejudices – no-one offered to help her.

Except one.

She remembers the heat that had flushed her pale cheeks when she stumbled, the bird proving heavier than she had anticipated. It slid from her slim arms to the hard-packed dirt bellow.

With a sigh – she couldn't decide what was more embarrassing, dropping the game in the first place, or the crimson colour of her cheeks – Madge leaned down dejectedly to pick it up.

And then _he_ was there. He bent down and slung the game over his shoulder as if it weighed nothing more than a feather. Madge stared up at him, mouth wide open in awe, like any child does when they see something new and fascinating.

She could tell that he was from the Seam just by looking at him – from his dark brown hair and grey eyes, all the way down to his slightly ratty clothes and the smudge of dirt on the end of his nose.

So surely, Madge had thought, he could tell that she was from Town too.

Strangely, he didn't seem to mind.

"Where ya headed?" was all he said, a lopsided grin curving the corners of his lips that threatened to dwell in Madge's mind for eternity.

Madge could barely say a word. Just mutter a, "Mayor's House," which she wasn't sure he heard but he seemed to get the idea when she pointed in that direction.

He took off without another word, Madge trudging behind him, mind still foggy from the lingering effect of that crooked smile.

They walked to her house in silence, Madge struggling to keep up with his significantly longer strides. But she didn't mind, because Madge – though a mere nine years of age and not having altogether that much experience with people in general – had never been more fascinated by anyone before.

When they arrived at her house he took the game and flung it haphazardly onto her doorstep – nobody's perfect and Seam boys definitely didn't take as much stock in manners as Madge had been brought up to – before turning back in the direction of town, leaving Madge slack-jawed and gazing after him.

"See you around!" were his last, bellowed words and they made Madge's cheeks flame.

She lay in bed that night, and many nights after it thinking about the boy. His name was Gale Hawthorne she'd soon learn – the son of a miner, as most of the Seam children were.

They didn't speak again for many years after, not until her and Katniss became friends, but Madge thought about him often. He would always be her saviour from that faithful day when they met.

And then, 3 years later when Gale's father died, along with many others in the mine explosion that shook District 12 to the core in more than one terrible way, he changed. His childish innocence faded and Gale Hawthorne, her once hero, became just as ignorant and judgemental as everybody else.

He makes his disliking of her more than obvious whenever he appears on her doorstep with Katniss – Madge always wonders if perhaps he is resentful of the day he helped her and wishes he could take it back. But that is ridiculous; he has probably forgotten all about it by now.

And so what if his scathing remarks and pointed looks affect her more than they should? At least he notices her, which is more than she can say for any other boy in District 12.

Oh, how ironic, Madge thinks it, that the one boy who does his best to criticise her at every possible opportunity, is the same boy she has a crush on.

Albeit it an unhealthy, unrequited and dysfunctional sort of crush.

Madge doesn't allow herself to dream about such impossible things – dream about the day that handsome, heroic Gale Hawthorne will return her silly, juvenile affections – yet she still longs for the unattainable Seam boy who had been her saviour so many years before.

Gale has grown up since then – into the boy who looks at her now with such coldness in his stormy grey eyes that it sends a shiver up her spine.

That innocent, kind-hearted boy she'd once met is long gone.

So why does the longing still remain?

. . .

_**A/N: **__Any thoughts? If you've made it this far, THANK YOU FOR READING!_

_I'm not sure where everyone stands on the 'Gale and Madge having a secret relationship while Katniss was in the games' idea. Personally, I don't it happened – I think Madge had a – sort of – crush on him, but Gale was the typical, oblivious male. Sigh. What can you do? But anyway, I wanted to explore the idea, so here you go . . ._

_So, about the fic – it will span from The Hunger Games to the end of Catching Fire (completely disregarding Mockingjay, I'll thank you) and will centre around Gale and Madge (obviously) with hints of Katniss and Peeta. Like, teeny, tiny hints._

_It will be quite drabble-y - I've wanted to try this style for a while. And the chapters won't be very long so I'll try and update often._

_Next up, Gale's "prologue", and then I'll get to the good stuff . . ._

_Hope you enjoyed :D_

_Also, strange as it is, I've never actually read a Gale/Madge fanfic (even though I ship them like crazy). Any suggestions?_


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